A Cold Rain
by rikkucheerio
Summary: hint of GorenOC. It was too much and it was too soon. I forced my hand by getting her to come with me.


The deluge of rain on Sunday seemed to not only soak my clothes as I sat on the steps in front of my building, but to permeate my soul, too. It was one of those cold rains that could turn to snow if the temperature dropped slightly. I sat outside in the late evening rain, smoking a cigarette, trying to prove true the old wives tale about getting the flu. I didn't even notice that I was cold and wet, nor did I care. My life is falling apart in front of me and I don't think I can stop it.

I shouldn't have asked Andy to come with me on Sunday. I was selfish and only thinking about my needs-- _I_ needed her there; _I_ wanted her. I wish she hadn't been witness to my mother's disappointment and apathy towards me, but I also wish I hadn't let myself become so open and exposed. In the span of an afternoon, she was able to see half of everything I've kept from people, half of what I grew up with. I feel... raw. And broken. I asked her to come because the longer this goes on, the harder it will get and I wanted to lean on her. I needed her to help me get through that day in one piece. It was too much and it was too soon. I forced my hand by getting her to come with me. I wasn't ready to show that part of my life to anyone, not even Andy. I wasn't ready to show her that my mother prefers my older brother, that she thinks so low of me... and that I believe everything she says of me, that I'll sit and take it because that's what good sons do.

I'm only doing what's best for her, but what's best and what she wants don't ever match up. All she knows is that she's in a situation that she does not want to be in, one that's painful, and I forced it upon her. Frank wouldn't do that. Why can't I be more like him? Why can't I use the so-called power of prayer? All that is is wishful thinking and Ma needs more than a few encouraging words. She needs what I can't give her. I can't give her the son she wants, I can't afford to get her the treatment she needs. I'm letting her down this way and that. And she knows it.

I could tell Andy was nervous about coming with me. I shouldn't have asked her to. She wouldn't have been subjected to my mother's particular brand of conversation, in which I'm the only one who can follow. Andy would have been spared the absurd scrutiny that not even Mary Magdalene could survive. She came with me because she loves me. So how do I repay that? By yelling at her. It's bad enough that I snapped at her Friday night. I apparently had no problem hunting down that fight I tried to start Friday. I wanted to be alone, to absolve my pain and guilt somehow, but she wouldn't listen. She's incredibly stubborn, but so am I. I tried so hard to get her to leave, saying things I'll always regret. I haven't seen her since Sunday evening. I...don't know where we stand with each other. I don't know if... if she'll talk to me outside of what's necessary for work. She thinks I'm this great guy, but behind the facade, I'm a lot like my parents. I'll joke around with her, teasing her, and often the first thing that comes to mind is something mean. I keep teasing her about the imaginary other girl I'm seeing. If I had any respect for her, I wouldn't do that. I think I just lost the best thing I had in life, but I don't blame her.

God, I'm so sorry, Andy.

Maybe next year I'll take the Sgt. exam. If I'm still here. I'm barely keeping my head above water now and I wouldn't be surprised if the Brass were trying to expedite getting rid of me. They throw me into this incredibly high stress position while I'm in the midst of a never-ending crisis and expect me to thrive. I'm hovering somewhere between wanting to give up and wanting to keep fighting with a definite tilt towards the former. That stage where she makes everything come up colors is over, replaced with the harsh grays of reality again. I have created more problems for myself and ended up dragging her into the quicksand with me, almost intentionally and definitely selfishly. 

I'm defeated from spending the day with IAB, I'm sick from sitting in the rain, and I'm lost. It's only 7:30 and I'm already going to bed.

I am angry at seeing the same members of this squad doing all the work. I need things to get done and I need them done by yesterday. Promises are hollow without results and the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I spent all day today defending the lot of you from IAB's barrage of questions about why this is taking so long to close. Please don't turn me into a liar. If I see another paper football flying around, things will start to get ugly around here.


End file.
